


Jumping through the Multiverse

by LunarCallisto



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, Multi, Prompt Fic, Various AU's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarCallisto/pseuds/LunarCallisto
Summary: A various AU prompt dump for other fan favorite ships or trios of Shingeki No Kyojin- [Drabble Collection] [Canonverse & Other Various AU's]





	1. Of Gothic Vampires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue Prompt #4: “Did you just hiss at me?” - “Are you judging me?”
> 
> MikaAni/ Modern High School AU

The amount of neon skull printed bracelets, cat ears, and too-expensive anime shirts were beginning to grate on Annie’s nerves just for merely existing. Why was it every time she went into a Hot Topic, the merchandise just got  _worse_?

There were T-shirts for mediocre bands she’s never even heard of, T-Shirts for bands that her father probably still listened too. Fishnet, and frills on anything that looked Lolita, caps with tiny devil horns, parachute pants embedded with chains-  _she nearly gagged at the sight of that one_ \- and, _oh of course_ , pop culture references on every single item. From wallets to key chains, even the studded boots on the high shelves sold versions of someone’s favorite cartoon printed on them.

She wondered at what point did Hot Topic choose to make Jack Skellington as the store’s mascot, it was impossible to not walk out that store without at least one Nightmare before Christmas item.  _She had least four key chains already._

Annie sighed irritably, walking down a tightly fit aisle-  _did everything have to be so compact in this store?_ \- She stopped in front of yet another row of anime merchandise, somehow a My Little Pony bracelet found itself dangling with the Naruto patterned socks. Annie grabbed the bracelet with a huff, dropping it back into a box with several colorful ponies at the counter. The whole store was a mess anyway, those poor sales associates probably dealt with this cringe-worthy twister every single day.

Next to the Naruto assortments was another poster for a mainstream anime she didn’t care for. Annie grabbed a leather wallet off it’s hook, turning it over, there was an angry green eyed boy printed on the front, along with a black-haired girl wearing a red scarf, and a blond boy with a head shaped like a coconut.

_Huh._  Annie mused,  _they looked vaguely familiar._

“‘Hey, hey Annie, ‘ook.”

And there was the reason why she had stepped into this pop culture dump in the first place. Annie turned around, “ _God_ , you take so long, did you finally find what you were looking for?”

Mikasa was standing there with her hands behind her back, towering over Annie in her black platform boots, a dark-skull patterned shawl over her shoulders, dressed as some Gothic Lolita and-

Annie squinted at Mikasa’s face, “Is that… teeth?”  

Mikasa grinned, flashing her fake vampire fangs, “Yes, ‘ike ‘em?”

“We were literally here for an hour, I have  _band practice_ y’know, you took forever just to find teeth?” Annie stared long and hard at the dark shadow of a girl.

“‘Hey glow in ‘he dark!”

“I can’t,” Annie rubbed at her temple. “I can’t even understand what you’re saying.”

She walked passed Mikasa, nudging the goth girl with her shoulder, “Let’s go you freak, I’m assuming you paid for those already since they’re in your mouth?”

Mikasa nodded, and then, while making claw hands, hissed at the blonde. It took a second for Annie to decipher what she just saw. Annie blinked owlishly, looking around to make sure no one else noticed that embarrassment.

“Um,” Damn, it was hard not to laugh. “Did you just hiss at me?”

Mikasa blushed, spitting the glow-in-the-dark fangs into her palm, “Are you judging me? I’m only playing around…”

Annie snorted, “No, no, you keep doing uh- whatever it is you’re doing, just don’t do it in public so much, okay?”

“Fine.” Mikasa at least had the decency to put the plastic fangs back into its case as they walked out the store.

“Hm, you’re not… You’re not gonna’… _Wear_ those when we’re uh-” Annie flushed a bright pink, but Mikasa caught on.

“I’m not sure they were meant for that,  _but_  we could try?” Mikasa tilted her head at the small blonde, whose pale cheeks were now burning with heat.

“Er, forget I said anything!”

Mikasa smiled. “Of course my little minion.”


	2. Frail little Christa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hi :) could you do "Heal me" / "Quiet me" for ereannie or yumikuri ? (or whatever ship you feel like)
> 
> Yumikuri/ Set in Canonverse!

“You  _really_ are a klutz.” The freckled girl tutted, delicately running a finger down Christa’s bandaged elbow; Christa hissed, yanking her arm back with a teary glare, “That still hurts, Ymir!”

Ymir rolled her eyes, “I’m sure it does.” She shook her head like a parent disciplining their child. Of course, her dear  _fragile_  Christa had to go and injure herself during their morning ODMG flight tests. Now here they were at the Med bay, for their remaining lunch hours; Christa was  _really_  screwing up her chances of making it to the Top Ten, Ymir could only do so much.

“You know, I’m still wondering how  _you_ and  _Jaeger,_ of all people _,_  got all tangled up together.”

Loud Irritable grumbling was heard from the other side of the curtain; Ymir scoffed, glancing over to the figure seated on next bed, silhouetted by the thin white curtain. She could see two figures illuminated by the sun coming through the windows. _The other one was probably the Ackerman girl._ “You got something to say Klutz number two?”

“Shut up!” Came a barking cough, Ymir smirked. Christa huffed, dropping back into her pillow, “Just leave him alone, it wasn’t his fault anyway, my harness wasn’t strapped on right.”

“ _And_ that’s why you’re klutz number one.” Ymir chuckled. Though, despite all her teasing, she still hovered over Christa like a mother hen, occasionally fetching her cups of water, and re-wrapping her gauze for fresher ones.

Even going as far as bringing her a tray of bread and baked beans from the cafeteria _—“It’s not mine, I already ate.”—_ she lied, she hadn’t, but Christa would have thrown a fit if Ymir told the truth.

It was not because Ymir was a  _good_  person and she  _cared_ for the girl, no way. More of the fact that by helping, Christa would now be in debt to her, and Ymir would be able to get the little blonde to do  _whatever_ she wanted.

_“But if Eren wouldn’t have been chasing Annie…”_  Christa mumbled offhandedly, her perfect eyebrows drawn down annoyance, Ymir perked, tilting her head curiously. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

A loud, ear racking sneeze startled both girls, Ymir grimaced, a disgusted expression on her face. “How about covering your mouth  _Jaeger_ , nobody wants your suicidal bacteria!”

_“Fuck. Off.”_ The silhouette twisted, and Ymir could hear the boy huffing and puffing angrily from his side, the second silhouette patted his arm reassuringly.

“Ymir,  _leave him alone.”_   Christa turned to her, suddenly curt and serious, and Ymir felt a warm rush flood her cheeks, she secretly liked it when Christa got serious, because she looked… _Well,_  more like person than the ditsy porcelain girl she appeared to others as.

 Ymir leaned over Christa, one arm braced at the side of the pillow, a coy smile played at the edges of her lips. “What’re  _you_  going to do if I don’t?”

Christa’s face flushed a pretty rose hue, she furrowed her eyebrows, veering back to battle Ymir’s come hither eyes with a no-nonsense stare; but gave up half-way, she scoffed, folding her arms. “You are unbelievable.”

Ymir settled back into her seat, “Uh-huh, say’s the injured  _oh-so-frail_  one.”

“I am  _not_  frail!”

Ymir smiled cheekily, “I’ll believe _that_  when I see it.”


	3. Remember Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pieck-aboo asked: How about "Remember Me" or "Wed Me" for the drabble meme :) can be any characters you want! (Ereani is always a treat tho!)
> 
> Yumihisu/ Canon-Divergence AU!

“B-but your highness, they’re free of charge!” The old merchant insistently tried to push a basket of sweet apples into the queen’s open arms. All Historia wanted to do was go for a peaceful walk down the market square…But,  _of course_ , for the young queen, that was near impossible.

Mitras had always been one of the wealthier districts, as it was the Capitol that was home to royalty, and those born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Farmers and Merchants all did their trade business there so it was always bustling with people.

Historia hadn’t wanted to take the carriage this time, she needed fresh air, but she immediately regretted that decision the moment a crowd of citizens all but rushed towards her like a stampede of buffalo; all admiring her beauty, giving her offerings, asking for her blessings, or even trying to touch her. Hands reached to grasp at the hem of her sleeve, and cape.

Her royal guards had quickly stepped in to make a barrier around her—which also made it pointless for her walk, because she could hardly see where she was going. It got to the point of her _demanding_ that they disperse and leave her be.

Her guards were hesitant to obey at first, but one solid glare at them all did the trick.

“Your Highness, please wear this!” A young guard tossed a dirty brown cloak her way, she caught the garment, eyeing it curiously, before slipping it on, it fell just below her knees, and the hood was big enough to shield her crown and golden hair.

“Thank you, your dismissed.”

She knew she was being reckless again, being on her lonesome left her open to any possible threat. But It wasn’t  _just_ that she had wanted to go for a walk—Historia was also going to pay someone a visit. Someone dear to her. At the very end of the Market Square was a textiles shop, a bit run down, and obviously doing much worse than the other businesses in Mitras, but still open, and warm to customers who passed by.

It was run by two women; a young freckled girl, and an old widow, who always spoke to the girl as if she were her granddaughter, and even said as much to her customers.  But anyone with eyes could see, they were not related. It wasn’t just a matter of appearances either.

The old lady had that thick elegant accent known to citizens born in the Capitol; but the girl sounded as if she were born in a barn. She was crude in some ways, very conniving, and blunt when she had to be. But, inside, she harbored a good soul.

Her name was Ymir, and she was Historia’s first love.

The door to the shop was left slightly ajar, it creaked open as Historia made her way inside. An assortment of checkered and plain fabrics hung from the ceiling, spools of wool were left strewn on the counter. It smelt like the inside her of wardrobe in there; but it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant smell.

She flicked the bell twice, awaiting, the bronze ring on her middle finger grew heavier with each passing second. How long had it been since her last visit?  _Two weeks? One month? Two months?_

She’d been terribly busy upholding her duty as queen, Historia hoped Ymir wouldn’t be so curt with her as she was last time. The old Ymir had always loathed royalty, but Christa _—Historia_  had been different.

She prayed every night in her chamber, to whatever god was listening, that one day, there will be a spark in her amber eyes and Ymir would recognize the girl in front of her as not just  _‘The damned Queen’_ , that she’d go back to her usual goofy ways, that she’d parade her around and yell _—“Let’s get married!_ ”— because she had no care in the world of what others thought.

Because Ymir cared for their  _own happiness_ , and their  _own safety_ , yes, she was selfish. But that’s what Historia loved about her.

And yet…even  _that_  was far-reaching. After  _that_  horrible incident, Historia could only hope, and pray, for so much.

The wood panel floors groaned under the old woman’s weight as she approached the queen, a tentative smile on her face. A sign that something was wrong.

“Your highness…” She fidgeted, eyes downcast.

“Where is she?”

The old woman’s face went solemn, “Come with me.”

The second floor of the textiles shop was  one short narrow corridor that led to a single bed room; there resting on the cot bed was Ymir, one arm thrown over her sweating forehead, and the other resting on her stomach.

Historia frowned. Of course, she had to go and catch the flu of all things.

“Ymir.”

Her diminutive voice caused Ymir to stir some, she groaned lifting her arm from her eyes, she sat up, cringing as her spine popped into place, “Oh…It’s  _you_  again,” Ymir drawled, giving Historia once over, “The people pleaser.”

Historia rolled her bright blue eyes, the old woman who stood behind her gave a Ymir a stern look that spoke volumes. Ymir made a  _Hmph_ sound, twisting to swing her bare legs over the edge of the bed.

“What brings you here,  _your highness_?”

_You._ Historia thought. “Silk.” She said.

Ymir blinked, tiredly.  _“Excuse me?”_

“I came here to purchase some silk, for a gown I’m commissioning.”

Ymir stared blankly, switching her attention between the old woman and her, she huffed a laugh. “That’s  _quite_ a rare material, what kind of dress is it that your slaves are makin’ you?”

_Ouch._  Historia swallowed thickly— _No. No._   _It’s okay_. It’s got to be okay, Ymir didn’t know who she was anymore, regardless, that  _stung_  more than it should have.

She breathed evenly, training her face into a look of passiveness, though her eyes were still pleading to the freckled girl across from her. “It’s…a wedding dress.”

The old woman nervously wrung her hands. Ymir tilted her head curiously, “ _A wedding dress…”_ She paused for a moment…  _One_  hopeful second.

But then immediately scoffed, “You’ve finally betrothed some poor bastard, have you?”

At this, Historia smiled, though sadly, her blue eye’s drawn to the ring on her right middle finger.  _Maybe another day._

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”  


	4. Jean the Masseur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: For the prompt thing, could you do 29 or 30 Ereannie OR 1 or 4 Jeankasa? I love your fics, they're always so good!
> 
> Dialogue Prompt 4: “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” 
> 
> Jeankasa fluff/ Set in Canonverse~

He couldn’t stop staring at her. Not that  _that_  was different from any other day; Mikasa Ackerman was a glorious sight to behold, be it when she was slaying titans, riding off into the sunset on a horse, or simply standing by Eren’s side. Everything she did, she did with precision and refinement, honing her body into the shape he knew even the men of the Survey Corp wish they had. In Jean’s eyes, she was perfect. Yes, she did have her flaws, as any human being would, but he acknowledged them too. It didn’t make her any less magnificent to him.

But that was not the reason for his staring this time. This time, he stared, because she kept fidgeting on the chair she sat in. Her lips pursed, and her brows furrowed like she was uncomfortable with something.  _Was it the chair?_  Eren, the idiot, hardly picked up on her antics, his back was turned to her and he was chatting excitedly with Armin about the Ocean they’d seen months back. The rest of the dinner table didn’t notice a thing either.

Captain Levi sipped at his black tea, ignoring the rest of the world. Commander Hange discussed base tactics with her new underling over some bread and beans. Sasha was too busy chowing down to pay anyone attention, and Connie… Well, Connie never really picked up on anything until it was too late.

So, there was Jean. He decided he’d wait until everyone else cleared the table and went to kitchen duty, while the veterans headed to bed. Then he’d find out what was eating away at Mikasa.

Supper finished at around nineteen hundred hours, the sun outside was setting, and the Survey Corps new base was bathed in the orange hazy glow of dusk. Jean made his move than, as Mikasa, he predicted was the last to leave. He caught her just as she was clearing out her utensils.

“Hey,” he tapped her shoulder, Mikasa flinched. Jean worried for her even more so. “What’s the matter?”

She said nothing. Jean knew of her quiet nature, but her face was twisted into a look of pain. “Is it Eren again?”  _Goddesses, Jean was going to strangle that mullet-haired freak if he did something to Mikasa._

But to his relief, she shook her head. “No.”

Mikasa put down her empty plate, she turned to him, rolling around her shoulder, wincing as she did. Jean eye’s flashed in concern, “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head again. Then rolled her shoulder, more slowly. “It… feels stiff…” She mumbled. Jean opened his mouth, then closed it, only uttering an “Oh.”

Well, even humanity’s strongest could get muscle cramps. Luckily Jean knew a remedy that could work on just that. First, he had to gather his courage, and then lower his expectations, in case she rejected him. Jean was always prepared.

“I could…” He started, but fell flat when her coal colored eyes locked with his. Jean swallowed, averting his gaze, he shuffled awkwardly. “I could… _D-do you_ …want,” Jean grimaced, hating how he sounded like pubescent boy asking his long-time crush out for the first time. “I mean…I could give you  _a massage?”_  He squeaked the last bit out.

Mikasa’s silence unnerved him, her usual stoic face was one of curiosity. Jean flushed, his heart beating erratically in its cage. “N-nevermind, forget I said—“

“Okay.”

Jean blinked, “Huh?”

“Okay.” She said, still looking rather curious. “What is a massage, will it help me?”

His jaw nearly hit the floor. His eye’s widened. _No way._

“Uh…well,” He rubbed his nape sheepishly, “A massage is…when I—when  _a person_ , uh… treats your muscles with their hands, and uh… touches them in a certain way, so that they could loosen up some, and… it feels really good.”

Mikasa cocked her head, black tendrils fell across her pert nose. Jean gulped. How  _Cute._

“Will it stop my pain?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then I want you to do it.”

Jean lost his breath, he reached out, grabbing a hold of a chair to steady himself. “Jean?” She poked his side, he gave a strangled cough, “ _You got it_ , just—just take a seat right here.” He pulled the chair out, it scratched across the floor boards until the back was in front of him. Mikasa sat, uncoiling her red scarf from her neck, and smoothing it down onto her long skirt.

And  _Jean_ , Jean just… stared at the back of her head, her beautiful black hair, her elegant neck, and her firm shoulders. _He must be_   _dreaming._

“Uh… Okay.” He breathed out. Raised his shaky palms to her shoulders, just as he was about to place them on her, he stopped. Then turned his palms upward, glaring at them. They could be clammy from all his nervousness,  _they would feel unpleasant if he put them on her_.  _He could embarrass himself in front of Mikasa._   _She would be grossed out._

“Jean?” Mikasa piped from her seat, “Are you going to touch me  _or what?”_

A heavy thump erupted behind her, Mikasa turned, only for her eyes to fall on a very unconsciousness Jean. Eren and Armin strolled into the dining area than, chatting away, until Armin noticed a very unconscious Jean on the floor, and a confused wide-eyed Mikasa.

“The hell happened to him?” Eren kicked lightly at Jean’s feet.

Mikasa sighed, “He said he was going to make me feel good with his hands.”

Far beyond the walls, far beyond oceans, even the Marley could hear the roar of Eren Jaeger.

**_“HE WHAT?!”_ **


	5. Goths don't Sweat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pieck-aboo asked: 30 or 38 for the meme! :) any pairing! (Snk universe)
> 
> Dialogue Prompt 38: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” 
> 
> Jeankasa/ Modern Highschool au

Here was reason one as to why Mikasa Ackerman had embarrassed herself in front of her crush.

Wearing black every day was a chore. Especially if her fashion sense consisted of long heavy Lolita dresses, rose-printed shawls, and three-inch plat form boots; sometimes on Wednesdays she wore the web-patterned stockings, even when the days grew warmer, even when the skies were bluer than the ocean, and the sun brilliantly shone without a cloud to block its harsh rays.

Even when she felt ready to collapse right in the middle of Algebra because the AC had stopped working. Mother Nature showed no mercy; and Spring’s early heat wave was really killing her  _dark_  vibe. How could she walk the halls of Maria High School when she was sweating like a pig; she was  _supposed_  to extrude the aura of the otherworldly.

Her liquid mascara had already chipped, the perspiration on her forehead made her bangs stick to her skin, her wiccan jewelry scalded her collarbones, and her noir matte lipstick had left a black smudge on her water bottle.

“ _Psst_ … _Hey,_   _Mikasa.”_  A hand reached out behind, tapped her shoulder. Mikasa glanced behind her, catching Sasha’s attention at the corner of her heavily shadowed eye; Sasha made  _come closer_  gesture, her face a desperate call for help.

Mikasa huffed, keeping her voice low,  _“What is it?”_

Sasha made a drinking motion with her hand, then pointed to Mikasa’s water bottle, Mikasa knew what she was getting at.

 _“Please!”_  Sasha pleaded in a whisper, her eyes going big and round. Mikasa guessed she might’ve sneakily eaten something under her desk.

“My lipstick is on it.” Mikasa pointed out, but Sasha started to cough dryly, making herself into a spectacle for their seat mates to gander at. The teacher was unnerved, still with their back turned to the class as they wrote down formula after formula.

 _“Fine. Just don’t choke.”_  Mikasa snatched the water bottle off the desk, tossing it to Sasha behind her. Sasha thanked her, uncapped the bottle and downed the last of its contents in one go. Little did Mikasa know, the day was only going to get hotter, and staying hydrated hadn’t  _exactly_  been on her mind. She blamed the dreadful heat on that. This was reason two for the cause of her embarrassment.

Reason three…

Jean Kirstein posed to few as the residential _bad boy_ of Maria High School; but to many he was a try-hard poser wanting desperately to fit in with the newest cliques; and to his closest friends, he was the biggest mama’s boy the world could offer.  

Unfortunately, Mikasa Ackerman had caught the interest of this  _bad boy_ ; and he wasn’t somebody that her hexes could work on. She’d already casted many bad luck charms on him; and yet he still tailed her down the halls like a lovesick puppy.

This Algebra period was also when her _accident_  happened, and unfortunately, when her long-time crush Eren Jaeger decided to show up,  _five minutes_  late before the bell for Lunch period rang; and everyone was shuffling about, zipping up book bags, talking to their friends, milling around the door waiting for Hange to dismiss them. They’d given the tardiness of Jaeger a piece of their mind before he took his assigned seat. Mikasa stared at him five seats up from her own; Eren was just as sweaty a mess as she was. But unlike her; the heat only made his tan skin glow, and his usually lax hair frizzy.  

Meanwhile, sweat beaded down her temple, and she was close to panting like a dog with how unbearably humid it was becoming in the too small class room; Mikasa fanned herself with her hand, counting down the ticking minutes to seconds until Algebra ended and she would be free from this hell pit.

Two minutes. She wiped the dampness off her brow, her body warmed up to an unnatural state. She felt she was suffocating, her hand went tug on her studded choker.

One minute. She packed everything up, carelessly dumping her books into the satchel.

The bell rang; Mikasa sprung from her seat, she saw stars in her eyes from sitting up to quickly, Sasha came to her side wearing a look of concern, “You good?” She patted Mikasa’s shoulder.

Mikasa brushed her off, panting a  _“Fine.”_   Really, she  _would be_  once she zoomed out of that class room. She ducked her head as she passed by Eren’s desk, nearly out of the door, but, her feet seemed to be going a different direction, the next class was shuffling in while their class was struggling to leave, Mikasa felt crowded, too  _hot, too stuffy_ , the class room tilted in her vision, and she fell out the door.

Right into the arms of Jean Kirstein.

“Woah!” he caught her by the waist; the scene looked as if been taken out of a movie. Her, nearly unconscious in his arms, and him holding her like they were in the mid of a sensual dance. Jean’s eyes bugged out, and he couldn’t believe what had happened. “Uh…”

Mikasa quickly came awareness once she sensed the  _vibes_  that could only be given off by the one and only. “Ugh, what happened…” She opened her eyes, greeting Jean’s amber gaze.  _“Oh no…”_

 _Oh no indeed._ Jean grinned, a full row of pearly white teeth, “y’know,” he righted her to stand, Mikasa kept a hand on his elbow to steady her. “If you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go through such extremes, you fainted straight into my arms.” Mikasa scoffed, but felt too dizzy to belittle him.

Then was the moment that Eren strolled through the door, immediately his attention landed to the residential bad boy and goth girl standing  _intimately_ close to each other. Mikasa’s eye’s widened, she dropped her hand, stepping away from Jean. Eren appeared confused, but then shrugged, he continued down the hall way. Jean’s eyes followed him, his face an expression of sour rivalry, but Jaeger wasn’t the type to give a damn.

Mikasa’s ears went pink, and she was  _red, red, red._  All over, and not just because of the heat.

She clenched her jaw, a dark aura surrounded her.  _“Oh, Jean…”_

Jean swiveled to face her, a goofy smile on his face, but it fell once he realized the wrath imitating off her, he gulped nervously.


	6. The mind, the body, the soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shigansina Trio/ Onesided Eremika/ Set in Canonverse! Continuation of Chapter 90.

His words had shocked her to the point of considering the cruel notion; but that was only because it was Eren who had said them. After five years, since the fall of Wall Maria, Armin’s dream of seeing the ocean had become a reality, the remaining titans left in Wall Maria were slain within a year, and the Queen had since vanquished the secrecy that the first king had kept hidden for so long—civilization in the walls soon knew of the history forging, the brain washing, the eradication of the East Sea Clan, and the Ackermans’ who were immune to the memory wipe; nearly everything that was safe to announce to the public without a mass hysteria outbreak.

Not many took it so well—though that was understandable. It  _was_ a lot to take in. It had been for Mikasa as well. She was just starting to believe beyond the world she so usually saw—when her feet touched the soft sand at the edge of Wall Maria, when she plunged her foot into the cool waters, and breathed in the salty air, the breeze whipping her ink black hair like spider silk in the wind.

She thought, for the first, and perhaps last time, there was hope for them. For her, and Armin, and Eren. Everyone else too—Captain Levi, Commander Hange, Connie, Sasha, and Jean. She felt it like the warm sunlight on her skin— Calm, and peaceful. Invigorating, like she was being born again—and it had felt  _so good._   Washing the blood off her hands—After fighting for so long, killing for so long, and holding back her fears, guilt and failure of past events. This was entirely new, this was what she hoped true freedom would be like. Armin’s bright flashing smile, and their friends splashing water at each other, while their Commander collected strange rocks on the shoreline.

She wished moments like these would last forever—but Mikasa had common sense, and  _wishes_? They never come true, at least for her they did not. Still, the ache in her chest was only because she wanted the best for them all—and eventually a place to call their home.

Mikasa was a wallflower—an observer, she hadn’t seen anything in rose tinted glasses since she was little girl. Since she had lost her innocence.

She leaned back on her forearms, her toes just out of reach from the low tide, the white frothy waves didn’t startle her so much anymore. The intricate seashells Armin placed on her lap were beautifully vibrant, and exotic—and Mikasa believed than, she was one more step away from regaining the humanity this world stole from her.

“Look at this one!” Armin pushed another bumpy shell into her opened palms, and she turned it over, coals eyes scanning every crevice. After Eren’s declaration, things had gone silent. Awkward with thick tension, nobody knew want to say. What could they say? They did not know for sure if Eren was right, or if he was stoking a flame that had long since gone out from his soul. It was Eren, after all. Mikasa knew Eren. She knew him more so than she knew herself.

Armin had been the one to deviate the topic away to other things—factual things. Like if they were to cross the ocean to the other side, they would need ships. Not boats, actual ships. They would need a weeks’ worth of supplies, they would need a dozen or more restocks of gas, horses, and many more men to recruit. At their status, so far, they were just not prepared. Not only that, they did not know what awaited them on the other side.

But that didn’t stop Eren from pondering the fate of the Marley. If only he were a bit more open with her, as he seemed to be with Armin. She glanced to the blond at her side, currently attempting to make a fish net out of seaweed—Armin chuckled when she asked him how many fish were in the ocean.

“It’s boundless, Mikasa.” He said, twisting one end of long, thin seaweed, “There’s so many different species, I can’t wait to see them all.” Armin weaved the seaweed in hands expertly, like he’s done it before—strange, though. Seaweed did not exist within the walls. “I’m going to write a story,” Armin turned to her, an awestruck twinkle in his eyes that reflected the ocean. “Of our journey, so far. I’m going to write every single event that has happened, even my death—”

The sift of sand, and a soft wet plop at Mikasa’s right side interrupted Armin—they both turned to gawk at their taciturn friend who busied himself with wringing water out of his shirt. Eren was completely drenched from head to toe, his mid-length hair was a tangled mess, dripping heavily over his eyes, and his light shirt had soaked up so much water, it stuck to him like a second skin. Mikasa could see the hard lines of his abdominal muscles as he leaned further back—She promptly averted her gaze, burying her nose into her scarf as her cheeks tinged a pale pink.

Armin laughed, “Went for a swim, huh?”

“More like practically drowned.” Eren grunted, forking his fingers through his wet clumpy locks. Armin made a tutting noise, “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”

He turned back to his task of weaving together a fishing net—Eren tilted his head curiously pass Mikasa to observe him. “Uh, Armin? When did you learn how to do that?”

Armin stopped his ministrations, and Mikasa looked at him questionably. “Huh,” he raised his head slowly, the sunset’s fiery rays bounced off his wondering eyes. “I don’t remember, actually,” He peered down at the mass of woven seaweed, “I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”  

Eren and Mikasa shared a look—she could practically see the gears in Eren’s head spinning through his wide silver eyes. Then a flash of cognitive shock, a brief realization, a puzzle piece falling into place. Mikasa tried to placate him from heckling Armin by placing her hand over his. He looked down, only momentarily, but his attention was back at Armin within the same second.

“Have you seen anything yet, Armin?” He asked, Armin looked away sheepishly. “You have, haven’t you? You saw  _his_  memories.” Eren pressed further, “Did he know anything about the Marley? Where are they hidden? Where is Zeke—“

_“I don’t know.”_  Armin huffed, he threw the seaweed fish net into the rising tide, watched as it was carried off into the current. “I don’t understand—most of it is in pieces. Some of it, I could  _hardly_ grasp—I’m trying, though. The only way I could make sense of Bertolt’s memories, is if I empathize with him.”  

Mikasa squeezed Eren’s hand, and he dropped his gaze. Wet tendrils of dark hair stuck to his cheek, and she fought the persisting urge to brush them behind his ear. Armin tossed a sea shell into the ocean. Behind them, a campfire bellowed smoke high into the dusky skies. Commander Hange listed their stock, Captain Levi catered to the horses, and the rest of their team sat huddled around the camp fire—laughing, and roasting salted fish.

Armin got to his feet, dusting off his soiled white pants. His vibrant blue eyes focused solely on the ocean—what had once only been a dream of his. Mikasa saw determination on his soft face. The breeze danced between the three of them—causing their hair to go wild. Mikasa put a hand to her head to avoid being blinded by the specs of sand, but the other hand still rooted Eren next to her. His warmth radiated onto her in waves like the sea.

“I saw glimpses of them as children.” Armin spoke just above a whisper, Eren’s head shot up. “I saw—I don’t know… I saw people, a man with dark hair, a woman…”

“His parents?” Eren mused. Armin shook his head, but then shrugged. “Maybe. I also saw Reiner, and Annie, and another, a boy—"

“Marcel?”

Armin pressed his lips in a line, brows furrowing. “Marcel?” He cocked his head, blond tendrils flying in all directions, “Perhaps… I think, I may be able to unlock more of Bertolt’s memories.” Armin turned to them. “But… we’re going to  _need_  Annie.”

Mikasa felt a chill like ice being poured down her back. She disliked anything that had to involve that girl. Eren, however, was exuberant. “ _How?_ ” He exclaimed. “She’s been in that crystal for a year, Armin, we’ve tried all we can. Even the lightning spears couldn’t make a scratch.”

Armin shook his head again, arms crossed. Concentration evident on his face. His hair was pushed back from the intense winds. Mikasa thought then, he looked reminiscent of their late previous Commander.  “We just haven’t been thinking outside the box.” He said, looking off into the distance.

Eren was silent, pondering, before he jumped to a stand, skidding sand all around them—without hesitating, he turned and pulled Mikasa up with him, her eyes widened when she saw him flash a smile. Though it wasn’t his easygoing smiles she rarely ever saw anymore—this was the smile of the long-lost dare devil boy. It made the beat of her heart skip nonetheless. Even with the haggard lines under his eyes, he still carried that passion with him everywhere he went. It was just quieter now.

“You’ve got a plan?” Eren followed Armin’s gaze towards the vast sea

Armin smiled ruefully, “I never have plans. But I’ve got gambles, and they almost always work.” 


End file.
